


Saturday Night

by diminishedmercury



Series: Mercury One Shots [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, lots of feelings, mercury has many of them, rest in pieces his little heart, this is..... definitely... canon di v er gent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: He was lucky, he knew that. Lucky Weiss still didn't know about his legs even after they'd started this little "casual sex" relationship, lucky that they were dozing in an empty dorm room (he'd have to get Em some of those chocolates she liked for that), lucky that Cinder wasn't entirely aware of what was happening right in front of her. She'd told him to make friends; his method of "making friends" just happened to involve a different use of his mouth than Emerald's faked laughter with Team RWBY (and now he was fucked).





	Saturday Night

Had Mercury realized this was a bad idea? Absolutely, that much wasn't up for debate, it was just that he hadn't necessarily cared about the consequences when things were  _happening._ He preferred to live through life without second guessing himself; incidentally, this was just the one time he'd allowed himself to actually have something he'd _wanted_ rather than _needed_. That was a mistake, but what's done is done and now here he was, left with the fruits of his labor. Christ, how had he been so blinded? Marcus was laughing at him in Hell, he was sure of it, but who the fuck cared about what that bastard thought about him anyways? Mercury knew that _he_ didn't.

And, distantly, that was probably his problem and— her hair was soft, he absently thought, hand playing with some loose strands without a care in the world. Soft and white as snow and pure— everything that he was not. She was soft and white and pure and everything that he could  _never_ be even if he'd wanted to try at some point. And still, he was gentle in the way he carded his fingers through the bangs that framed her face, and he didn't shy away from her when she wiggled her warm body further on top of his bare chest (and hadn't even questioned her when she'd snagged his shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor and put it on to sleep). It felt good. Better than the human interaction he'd gotten from Em and Cinder the past however many years— and that was dangerous. He knew that better than anyone. Marcus had taught him better than to be this weak, but here he was, Little Miss Schnee with her arms wrapped around his neck, head buried in his bare shoulder (her hot skin almost felt blistering against his cool skin, but he supposed that's why she was using him as a makeshift pillow),  _his_  hands pulling her long hair loose from it's usual ponytail. 

He was lucky, he knew that. Lucky Weiss still didn't know about his legs even after they'd started this little "casual sex" relationship, lucky that they were dozing in an empty dorm room (he'd have to get Em some of those chocolates she liked for that), lucky that  _Cinder_ wasn't entirely aware of what was happening right in front of her. She'd told him to make friends; his method of "making friends" just happened to involve a  _different_ use of his mouth than Emerald's faked laughter with Team RWBY (and now he was fucked). Sex was something that was easy and familiar to him and so it wasn't hard to get Daddy Issues Schnee wrapped around his finger with a few flicks of his tongue in dark corners of the library when nobody was looking _—_ he just hadn't been expecting for _her_ to get him wrapped around her finger in the process. It was easy to not care and easy to take what he wanted from her, but it was hard to pretend for so long and so hard and  _not_ feel  _something._ He knew that perfectly well. It was another thing that Marcus had taught him about, that he had warned him about. Ugh. This was all a huge fucking drag and he could not believe he'd allowed himself to be dragged into this mess. Why couldn't Weiss have demanded a date from him on a day he  _hadn't_ been ready to pull apart his legs and put them back together again from boredom? He wouldn't have gone along with her whims and he wouldn't be in this mess at all (that much was a lie; she had a pull about her that he knew he would have been swept away in eventually if not that first day she'd confidently marched to his place in the classroom and given him "the honor of taking Weiss Schnee on a date").

He groaned softly and squeezed his eyes shut. He was so fucked. And definitely  _not_ in the pleasant way Weiss had just fucked him in a few hours earlier.

He wasn't in love (but he could be).

He didn't care about her (but he could).

He didn't want anything more than the sex (but he could).

He— well, he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He'd wanted some fun and he'd thought playing around with the cute heiress would be the cure to the aforementioned boredom he was perpetually plagued by in a dorm full of lesbians who wanted to dance around their stupid fucking feelings. He'd gotten that and  _so_ much more. And now Weiss was talking about relationships! She was starting to drop hints that she wanted him as her boyfriend instead of just a fuck buddy and he was frustrated with the fact that the thought didn't inherently disgust him (even if he had shot down the requests as soon as they'd popped up).

He wanted to tell himself that it didn't matter; he wanted to tell himself that they could just go on with their escapades and sate that need in him to please her; he wanted to tell himself that it didn't mean anything that he almost wanted to try out the "dating" thing.

Instead, he told himself that he had to end it. That he needed to be rid of her. That she was a distraction (a pretty one, a fun one, one that he couldn't bear to let go of). That he had a fucking job to do and he wouldn't let anyone stand in the way of him and his survival. He would have to do it soon. She was already too attached to the thought of him as her own. It would hurt her, but what did that matter? It would save his own hide and that's all that  _mattered_ (except that it wasn't). He didn't flinch when she hummed softly in her sleep like he normally would, a pleasant dream stirring her mind that he'd never known how to conjure up, and only pulled her small body closer to his own. He would miss this once it was gone in the morning _—_ a warm body to lie with. He could at least have this. He could at least have this last night. There wasn't anyone to tell him that he couldn't at the moment. He'd end it tomorrow. He'd spend tonight worshiping her, loving her, caring for her _—_ and then he would get rid of all of it simply because it was too risky to keep when he was worried about surviving.

His cool hand ghosted over a bare thigh, skin smooth and pale and already red with marks he'd left beforehand. He needed this, he realized, as much as it killed him he needed this. She stirred quietly against his chest, a shiver running down her spine when his hand gently moved to squeeze her inner thigh. He let out a soft snort; she really was so sensitive there (a pang in his chest when it registered this would be one of the last times he could touch her like this; he'd just have to make it count). His other arm wrapped around her waist, strong and steady, before lifting her and flipping their positions. He liked it when he could her on her back. It let him watch blue eyes behind black lashes, let him watch the red blush that started in her cheeks travel down to her bust and across her shoulders _—_ she was like a princess like that, lying back against the pillows and just demanding more of what he could give. He smiled privately when he saw ice blue blinking at him in the dark with a questioning look (to be fair, he was interrupting her beauty rest for this, but whatever, she'd like it in the end). He'd already pushed off the covers they'd been using, her legs pushed open wide enough for him to rest comfortably between them on his stomach, hands on her hips. "Really? Now?" Her annoyed huff of a question went ignored as he pushed up (his) the shirt she was wearing and placed a few well meaning kisses across her abdomen.

"Mhm," that was the only reply he really bothered to give her as she, presumably, rolled her eyes at his behavior and let him do as he pleased. He liked it when she was pliant and yielding under his touch like this (and fuck would he miss it after the sun came up). "Wanna taste you, Princess." And  _that_ sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. He'd make good on his time. Her small hands twined into his hair, pushing his head where she wanted it to go.

"Make it worth my time then," and he damn well did, wishing in vain that the sun would stay out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Daddy Issues is such an underrated ship and my little shipping heart Loves Them  
> Talk RWBY and VLD to me on my tumblr @igneousprince !


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